MCU HP Bingo 2018
by Entwinedlove
Summary: I completed 25 short stories for Marvelously Magical Fanfiction Bingo 2018. Eleven (11) are 2k or less and are in this archive. Seven (7) of them are posted separately and the last seven (7) are in the series called Anomalies of Time. Multiple rare pairs inside including Sam/Minerva, Ana/Edwin/Luna, Charlie/Natasha, Sirius/Peggy, Harry/Brock, Bucky/Natasha/Neville, Steve/Luna/Tony
1. Minor Temporal Displacement

**Minor Temporal Displacement**

 _As an Avenger, Sam had flown a good many missions. None of them had ended like this._

Pairing: Minerva McGonagall & Sam Wilson  
Rating: general  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Meet-Ugly, Time Travel  
Words: 1,329  
Original Release Date: 04 Aug 2018  
Square: B5 - Sam Wilson

* * *

Sam spun and somersaulted through the air in an attempt to lose the green demon-thing with giant wings that was tailing him. He looked back and shot at it but it was quick, spinning and dodging the bullets with ease. He'd already radioed to the team that he couldn't shake the thing but he knew they were all busy on the ground with this thing's big brother.

His guns clicked empty and the demon was catching up. He really didn't want to know what it felt like to be swiped out of the air by the foot-long claws on the first two hands—or were they feet?—of the thing.

What he needed was speed and the thrusters weren't up to the job it seemed. He deactivated the wings to start a freefall and then flattened his body to make it more streamline. The demon behind him roared with irritation and followed, shooting something shimmery and green ahead of them both. Sam had no chance of avoiding it but when he went through it, nothing seemed to happen. Whatever it was didn't even stick to his goggles. Ten feet from the ground, Sam pulled out of the drop and spun to watch if the demon would be able to pull up fast enough.

It didn't.

It ploughed right into the ground and he whooped when it didn't look like it was getting back up. He reloaded his weapons as he rose in altitude and looked for his teammates. He didn't see any of them. In fact, besides the demon that was lying in the torn up terrain, there was no one else. He swooped around again, surely they hadn't flown that far away.

The park the Avengers had hoped to keep the monsters contained in as they fought was completely empty. There were no upturned trees from where the demons had surfaced, no weird iridescent blue goop-blood from the first flying thing that went down. It looked pristine.

A quick glance around at the city beyond the park had Sam feeling vertigo so strongly he might have tumbled to the ground if the EXO-7 suit hadn't had stabilizers in it. The skyline was wrong. Admittedly he wasn't that familiar with the small British town they'd landed at but he knew there had been a few skyscrapers to the south that weren't there now. He would have heard those come down. What the hell was going on?

There was a pop on the ground below and he swooped down to investigate the sound and to get his feet back on the ground.

* . * . *

"Get down this—Oh," Minerva called even as the man started to descend. She'd never seen a wizard fly with wings before but she knew when she got the call that something strange was happening. Her senior Auror partner had set off to direct the Obliviation Team to cover up this grievous break of the Statute of Secrecy.

Once he was on the ground in front of her, the wings seemed to tuck back into a contraption on his back. He was wearing goggles and very odd clothes, even for a wizard. She held her wand tighter and aimed it at the ground. No need to threaten the fellow. "You've broken the Statute of Secrecy, sir, you will be fined."

"Excuse me, what?" he asked stepping closer to her. He reached up and removed the goggles. He was handsome without them obscuring his face. He glanced down at her wand in her hand and stopped. "I'm not sure what you think I've broken but I'm an Avenger, ma'am. I was just doing my job."

His American accent caught her off guard but she persisted in her duty to inform him of his crimes. "A what?" She shook her head and questioned him, "You've broken the Statute of Secrecy by flaunting your magic in plain view of Muggles. What were you thinking?"

"Umm, first off," he said, raising his hand like and gesturing to the contraption on his back. "This isn't magic. This is tech. Even Thor says magic is just advanced tech, so I don't know what you're talking about. What's a Muggle?" before she could answer him—she was sure her jaw had gone slack at his question, how could he not know what a Muggle was?—he continued, "A group of us just put a stop to a demon attack." He pointed behind her shoulder and she turned to see what he was talking about.

Laying in the turned up dirt and grass like it had crashed and slid was the strangest magical creature she'd ever seen. Actually, she wasn't even sure it was magical. It was a brilliant green with enormous, leathery-looking wings. It was lying on its side with its head down so she couldn't see its face, but she could see its legs, six of them, two with several foot long claws on either hand.

"Now, I've been calling it a demon but it could be an alien. I'm not sure. Bruce Hulked out before he and Tony could make a determination one way or the other. In any case, I got that one, and the rest of the team was right here fighting it's bigger, meaner, older brother and now they're not."

Minerva walked closer to the creature and raised her wand, casting spells to try and determine what it was and how no one had seen it. There only been reports of a man with wings flying over the park. About fifteen feet above the impact was a mysterious, shimmering green substance. Her detection spells determined that whatever it was, was messing with the temporal energy of the place. She looked back at the oddly-clad man and opened her mouth to ask him something when the creature beside her growled and swiped one of its deadly-looking claws in her direction. She jumped out of the way and cast defensively at the same time as the winged-man pulled out two guns and shot the creature multiple times.

Iridescent blue gel-like blood splattered from the bullet wounds in the creature and covered Minerva. The silence after the man stopped shooting and the creature's death throes was loud to her. She turned and looked at him. A gloop of blood dropped off her shoulder to land on her flared skirt. It stained her Auror-red robes violet and sparkly.

"Sorry?" he said.

"You're not a wizard, are you?"

"Nope. Just a man," he said, smirking.

"Did you fly through that temporal energy?" she pointed at the shimmery green cloud above them; it was starting to dissipate.

He looked up at it and squinted. "Yeah... wait, temporal? Are you saying I—time travel—or uh..."

The cloud had disappeared completely and with it, the dead creature faded out of sight as well. The jelly blood didn't, though. Minerva hoped that would come out in the wash.

The man looked back down at her and asked. "So, umm, what year is it?"

"1955. What... no, I probably shouldn't ask."

"2015," he told her anyway. He bit at his bottom lip and brushed a hand across his head as if pained. He muttered, "Never gonna tease Steve about his age again." He returned his attention back to her, "So, wizards, huh?" He didn't seem too surprised.

"I should probably take you into the DMLE," Minerva told him, "I'm not sure we'll be able to recreate whatever brought you here to send you back. You might have to... stay. Or it might just be a minor temporal displacement and time will correct itself." Even as she said it she had a feeling it wasn't going to be that easy.

"'Minor temporal displacement.' Right." He sighed but nodded and then asked. "Can I get your name, then, kid?"

She scoffed at his words and stiffened her spine. "I'm not a child."

"Sure, you're not."

"I'm nineteen and my name is Minerva McGonagall."

"Nice to meet you, Minerva. I'm Sam Wilson."


	2. The Colour Green

**The Colour Green**

 _Neville shows Bruce why he loves the colour green.  
_

Pairing: Bruce Banner & Neville Longbottom  
Rating: general  
Warnings: anxiety attacks, PTSD  
Tropes: coworkers, AU – Repealed Statute of Secrecy  
Words: 1,108  
Original Release Date: 15 Aug 2018  
Square: G2 - Neville Longbottom

* * *

Neville was just coming in from the greenhouses when he came across Dr Bruce Banner, Hogwarts' newest Muggle guest lecturer sitting on the floor in a corner in an out of the way place whispering to himself. At first, Neville thought the man was praying but he looked a little too manic for that to be it.

Neville had had his fair share of PTSD flashbacks and panic attacks since the war. Sometimes he would still get them on bad days when he saw a particular dark burn on the castle walls or an uncomfortably large reddish-brown stain on the stone floor where a carpet had been flipped up. He knew how that felt. As a seventh year and as a teacher, he'd learned to recognise those things in others and help when he could.

He walked closer to Dr Banner and listened to the man's feverish mumblings, a rapid-fire assortment of "please, don't come out Hulk," and "don't do it, this castle is a thousand years old," and "don't, don't, don't."

Now, the Hogwarts staff had been apprised about Dr Banner's oddities and Neville knew that the Hulk was not someone that should have free run in a school. Not that they couldn't rebuild the school if a giant creature wrecked havoc—they'd done it before, obviously—but there were students here and Neville didn't want any of them traumatised by an authority figure. He knew what that was like.

Neville kept his distance so as to not startled Dr Banner but then spoke in a soft, low voice. "Mr Hulk, Dr Banner, would you both like to come see my greenhouses? It's very peaceful out there right now. No students or anyone else."

Banner's eyes opened wide in terrified shock and they were glowing a radioactive green but the rest of him was still Banner. He looked scared but nodded. Neville stood and watched him and Dr Banner slowly followed, sliding back up the stone wall.

Neville nodded and said, "It's just down this hall and left through a secret staircase. Come on, I'll show you." He strolled along and listened and congratulated himself on doing well at not startling the older man as he heard steady, soft footsteps following him. When he got to the secret passage he stood half in the illusion of stone and turned to look back at Banner. He still looked a little on edge and his eyes were still that bright green but nothing else had turned green so Neville nodded him on through. He cast a quick Wand-Lighting Charm and held it up high as he followed Banner down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, he said, "It's not locked, just push." Banner did and they both stepped out into the afternoon. The glow of the setting sun set off prisms from the glass panels of the greenhouse rooves and Neville smiled to himself when he saw the rainbows they made against the side of the castle.

Banner had stopped to look around and Neville stepped around him. "I love the colour green," he said as they looked around at the garden outside of the greenhouses. "It's a versatile colour and it has a lot of meanings." He gestured to the ivy climbing the castle wall and focused on the dark hunter and the yellow-green stripes. "Sure, there's the association with greed and jealousy but like the ivy that wants to climb the highest towers, it can also be about ambition." He beckoned Dr Banner closer and when the older man took a single step in his direction he pointed to some of the oldest and tallest trees in the Forbidden Forest beyond the castle defensive wall. They could just make out the dark evergreen firs amid the cornucopia of yellows and reds. "Like the evergreens, the colour symbolises endurance and stability. And though the Forbidden Forest is a bad example, green means safety."

Banner turned to look at him and Neville gave him a smile. Banner seemed like he tried to return it. One corner of his lips tipped up like he appreciated the joke.

"Come over here to my favourite spot so I can show you something, I think you'll enjoy it." He led him into the back of greenhouse three, past the lethal plants to the potting station and shelf with dainty orange ceramic pots. Banner hesitated, looking up at the low, glass ceiling panels with a nervous tension in his shoulders.

Neville just reached out and patted him on the arm, guiding him closer to the potting station. "I come out here when I'm looking for a sense of peace, and quiet, and hope." He pointed at the new sprouts in the tiny clay pots with their pale, baby green leaves just poking out of the soil. "Green can mean fertility, of course. Renewal. Rebirth. A need to grow. But with that need is the lack of experience. These baby plants may be lethal but they aren't even ready for normal size pots yet, see?" he picked up a little pot and cradled it in both hands before handing it to Dr Banner. He took it, also holding it with both hands. "Even they need care and someone to tend to them." Neville could have sworn he saw the man's bottom lip quiver a moment but he wouldn't ever mention it. Green also spoke of compassion.

"You can come here any time you need it. I can get you my schedule so you know when there aren't classes out here. They're also warm even when there are heavy snows on the grounds."

When Dr Banner looked at him, the unnatural hue of his eyes had faded back to their usual warm brown. "Thank you." He looked down at the tiny plant, still cradled in both hands against his chest. "I could have destroyed this," he looked around at the greenhouse ceiling again, "I still could."

Neville smiled. "Magic makes it a lot easier to clean up and fix things when they get broken and we can always replant if we need to."

Banner nodded and reached out to set the tiny plant back on the shelf next to its siblings. He stared out at the lethal, well-developed plants, all their own shades of hunters and emeralds and pale turquoises.

Neville gave him a moment, glancing up at the sky through the glass roof. The sun had fully set by now. "Come on, Dr Banner, let's go inside. I think it's about time for dinner."

"Call me Bruce, please."

"Only if you call me Neville."

Bruce glanced up and gave him a full-on grin.


	3. Vogue

**Vogue**

 _Luna was anxious about her upcoming date._

Pairing: Ana Jarvis/Edwin Jarvis, Ana Jarvis/Edwin Jarvis/Luna Lovegood  
Rating: teen  
Warnings: A/B/O  
Tropes: AU – Muggle, AU – Modern: No Powers, Established Relationship, First Date, Triad Negotiating  
Words: 1,901  
Original Release Date: 30 Aug 2018  
Square: I1 - Ana/Edwin/Luna

* * *

Luna checked her watch again, noted that it had only been three minutes since she last looked, and bit her lip. She glanced back up at the door of the posh coffee house she was sitting in and tried not to tap her foot as it made the material of her skirt swish and the soft sound of it got on her nerves. She was wearing one of her signature styles that fashion mags had labelled 'quirky' and 'cute' and paired it with her favourite found-object jewellery: a necklace made from a wine cork and dangly earrings made from tiny light bulbs that were painted to look like radishes. They made her feel pretty.

Her 'appointment' wasn't for another eight minutes but she didn't want to miss seeing them enter. She thought about opening up her phone and browsing some of her social media accounts but she didn't think anything could hold her attention. Sighing at herself in frustration, she plucked her phone from her pocket and sent a text to Hermione.

 _I'm worried._

 _Your appointment's today, isn't it?_

 _Yeah. I'm at the coffee house you recommended. It's nice._

 _Are you early?_

 _A little bit_

 _You'll be fine. They'll be nervous too but it'll all work out in the end. Promise._

Luna didn't respond. She wanted to but she couldn't. Hermione had only gone through this process once: she'd filled out all the forms, waited a shockingly short period of time, and been matched with an alpha-beta couple that was perfect for her. She was neck-deep in planning their wedding.

Luna could admit that she was jealous. She'd tried other omega-matching services before and been burned but this particular service promised well-vetted people and strict confidentiality. Confidentiality had been a key sticky point for Luna who, although not extremely well-known, was something of a celebrity. Her schedule was booked almost a year out and with each red carpet event, Celestial was making a name for itself. She was happy with where she was in her career.

She was not particularly happy to be spending much of her time alone, however.

Hence the top-dollar matching service.

Luna was taking a sip from her water glass when the door opened. She looked up to see a man and a woman entering the room. She inhaled deeply. The fragrant scent of coffee was strong but underneath it, bolstered by the quick air shift from the closing door, she could smell the comforting clean scent of a beta and the heady scent of an alpha. She swallowed and sat up straighter.

The man started to inquire with the hostess about someone waiting but his partner touched him lightly on the arm and gestured in Luna's direction. He nodded at the hostess and the couple approached her table.

The man was tall and thin and he didn't seem self-conscious about his height. Luna'd seen plenty of tall men and women who would slouch like they were apologizing for something they couldn't change. No, he held his head level. He did look a tad nervous and when he got close enough Luna could smell it on him but he also smelled of excitement. He was wearing a well-tailored suit in a bland but serviceable brown, though the wide paisley necktie and white pocket square screamed that he'd pilfered them from a suit from a former decade.

The woman was shorter, with light auburn hair, though to be fair Luna wasn't quite sure on the colour in the dim atmospheric lighting. She wore a vibrantly coloured dress well-suited to her frame, though its silhouette wasn't anything currently fashionable, and coordinating close-toed pumps.

Taken together, the pair of them could have stepped out of the 1940s. Luna was half-way in love already.

She scooted out of the booth and stood just as they stopped at the table.

"Are you Luna?" the woman asked. She had a slight Eastern European accent to her English but it wasn't overpowering.

Luna was startled for a moment, as she'd expected the alpha to speak first, but when she offered her hand out to the woman and said, "Yes, Luna Lovegood," she caught the scent from the woman. She _was_ the alpha of the pair.

"Ana Jarvis and this is my husband Edwin. Why don't we sit?" she asked, her eyebrows raising and the smile on her face welcoming. "Do they serve food here, darling?" she turned, asking her husband.

"I will acquire some menus," he said. His accent was very stiff RP and caught Luna by surprise. He turned and left and she only briefly glanced at his bum as he walked away.

"Luna!" Ana said, joy in her tone so strong she was almost laughing, "what a beautiful name! And your designs with Celestial are breathtaking! I know the matching service didn't give much information about us but please, feel free to ask us anything; we're very open."

Luna smiled and felt herself starting to ease. Ana's scent was very comforting. "What is it you two do for a living?"

"Edwin works as a butler for a billionaire who likes and needs to be waited on. Before we married, I worked in a hotel tailor shop, doing last minute alterations for guests' who didn't purchase their things bespoke."

"And now that you're married?"

"Edwin's billionaire pays very well, so I can stay home if I like. I play with fabrics, make things, but I've got old-fashion tastes. Edwin is very accommodating," she said, glancing up as he returned bearing menus.

As he took his seat next to Ana, Luna caught the hint of desire mixing with the clean, spring rain scent of beta. She wondered if that was just for Ana or if he found her attractive too. "I have found menus and I spied a delightful array of desserts in a display case near the door."

"The tiramisu is good," Luna said.

Edwin glanced up from his menu and met her gaze. He gave her an almost-shy smile before turning to Ana. "What do you think, dear?"

She reached over and patted his hand. "You decide," she only glanced at him as she spoke. Her eyes were more focused on Luna's across the table.

"Are you looking for a stay-at-home-omega?" Luna asked? "Or would I be free to work?"

"You can do whatever you wish," Ana answered, "Though we are interested in having a family one day." She sighed and relaxed back against the booth. "The plight of alpha females the world over, I suppose. We want what we can't have. Is having a family, a child or two, something that you're interested in? Is it in your planned future?"

Luna looked down. This sort of question was covered in all the forms but it always seemed to come up in the first conversation. Partly because a large portion of the world tended to see omegas as purely baby-makers rather than being able to contribute in other areas of life and relationships. At least Ana was asking and not assuming. "Children aren't really in my five-year plan. I'm only twenty-four. I want to be more advanced and stable in my career, not to mention my relationships, before I'll consider going off birth control."

"Ten-year plan, then?" Edwin asked, his eyebrows dipping in concern.

"Edwin," Ana said, a hint of chiding to her tone.

He glanced down at the scold but didn't drop the topic completely. "It's just, we're a bit older than you, I suppose. I have no desire to push you into something you wouldn't want but children are something we both want very much."

Ana shifted and it looked to Luna like she might have been patting his knee under the table. "We have time yet, Edwin," she said, reassuringly. She returned her attention to Luna. "While having a family is important for us, a functioning, balanced relationship where all three parties involved are healthy and well taken care of takes priority. Do you feel like you can fully contribute to a working, thriving triad, Luna?"

Luna liked how straight-forward the alpha was being. "I think I can. I'm definitely willing to try. I didn't sign up for matching services just for my heats or anything if that's what you're asking."

Edwin might have blushed but Luna couldn't tell in the low lighting. Ana gave her a wide smile. "Oh, I know, darling, I just have to ask. Consent and communication are very important to me."

The server chose that moment to join them. He took their orders with little fuss, tiramisu all around, and Luna felt it safe to change the subject after he left. "What are your hobbies? What do you do for fun? I enjoy nature trails and hiking and when my work takes me out of the city I try to always make it a point do include time out of doors in my itinerary."

"We do a variety of activities. We do Judo sparring and Yoga together and Edwin does some weightlifting, fencing, and boxing. I think adding hiking to our routine might be enjoyable—that is, if you wish for us to accompany you. I can understand wanting to keep nature walking as a solitary activity. Balancing personal time with friends and partners is important."

"But travelling for work is something you're okay with?" Luna asked taking another sip of her water.

"Of course! If you'd like, I'm sure Edwin's employer wouldn't mind sparing him a few days every so often if you wish for us to join you. Or if you're interested in only me joining you, I think that would be fun. I'm particularly fascinated with the more professional art of the clothier, so I'd love to watch you while you work. Again, if that's okay with you."

Luna bit her lip in thought, feeling passingly happy when the waiter returned with their desserts and topped off their water glasses. Ana and Jarvis seemed almost too perfect. They were well put together, eloquent in their manners and everything Luna could want in a triad. She wasn't sure what the catch was, though. Was Ana a particularly dominant alpha? She seemed to lead Edwin around on a short leash but that might just be their established dynamic. There wasn't really any way Luna could know for sure until after she spent time with them.

She was particularly curious about how they would take care of her during a heat. It wasn't from an ignorant perspective either, Luna had been with female alphas before, but with Ana's domination of the conversation and the comforting and confident scent she gave off, Luna thought she would be a good caretaker, a good alpha.

Their first date was going well. Perhaps this matching service did deliver. She supposed there was only so much one could learn on a first meeting. If she wanted to get a real feel for how compatible she would be with them, she needed to take the plunge. She met Ana's eyes and smiled. "I think I'm willing to give this a shot."

"Oh, good! I'm so happy you're interested in more!" Ana said, giving an even more jubilant smile than before. She shared a happy look with Edwin who also seemed pleased with Luna's decision.

And if Celestial happened to start incorporating subtle vintage details into its designs, well, classic silhouettes like that don't really go out of style, do they?


	4. The Actress at the Automat

**The Actress at the Automat**

 _Lily wasn't expecting to find friends when she ducted into the diner but she's thankful they were there to help._

Pairing: Angie Martinelli & Lily Evans  
Rating: general  
Warnings: Overly Trusting Women  
Tropes: Time Travel, Women Helping Women  
Words: 1,552  
Original Release Date: 05 Sep 2018  
Square: N4 - Angie/Lily

* * *

Lily was lost. The sights and sounds of a city shouldn't have confused her so much—as she'd been to London and spent time there—but this city... it was something else. She also had to concede that if she'd just been lost in an unfamiliar city, that would be one thing, but she was also lost in the past and that was the part that bothered her the most.

She, James, and Sirius had been locked in duels with a few Death Eaters outside of Devon when James went down. She'd been too busy saving her own skin to do more than shout in worried panic. The Death Eater who'd been duelling with James turned his attention to her and before she could blink, an entire group of spells had been flung her way. The third Death Eater had apparently not known what his cohorts were planning and been caught up in the volley of spells with her.

She'd felt the jerk behind her navel of Portkey travel and there was something else, a tunnel of swirling lights that had given her a horrible headache.

And then nothing.

When Lily had opened her eyes she found herself laying in a narrow, dirty alley in a strange city. She'd sought out a newspaper stand and found both her location and the date.

New York City. May 1946.

Her stomach had swooped at learning how far back in time she'd been flung. She wandered the streets, thinking about her situation. Should she try to find passage back to Britain to seek out the Ministry of Magic? Would they be able to return her to her own time? She didn't have any money, she wouldn't be able to find Muggle transportation. She needed to find an Auror in the wizarding government here. Unfortunately, she had no idea where to look.

As she glanced around, she realised she'd somehow circled back around to the place she'd woken up. A black swirl of movement caught her eye and she saw the Death Eater she'd been catapulted through time with. As he levelled his wand in her direction she sprinted up the pavement, ducking into a relatively busy diner. She hoped the Death Eater would be sensible enough not to try to attack her here in front of all of these Muggles.

Though she supposed if he did, she might find an Auror sooner.

It would not be worth it. She inhaled and stepped further in, taking a seat in one of the booths. She looked around and felt a slight bit of relief. Her dress wasn't too far off from what some of the other women in the diner were wearing. Though she did feel bare when she noticed that every single woman was wearing nylons. A few modifications to her floral dress would be easy enough to help her blend in.

Before she could get up and find a restroom to spell those changes, a waitress showed up. She had dark blonde hair pulled back under her uniform cap and light eyes. "What can I get for ya?"

Lily was again reminded about how she didn't have any money and even if she'd had galleons or pounds in her pockets it wouldn't help here. She decided to be as honest about that as she could, though she hoped she wouldn't get tossed out for loitering. "I'm sorry. I don't have any money. I just came in here to get away from someone who was following me. I thought the crowd would keep him away."

"I know how it is with unwanted attention," the girl said. A bell over the door chimed and she glanced up. Without hesitating, she sat in the opposing booth and propped her hand on her chin. A man in a dark suit walked close by their table and Lily noticed his hands were clenched into fists. The girl waited for him to move past them and take a seat further away before speaking, "I can get you a cup of coffee on the house, English, but not much else. Do you have anywhere you can go to get away from this creep? I'm Angie, by the way. Angie Martinelli."

"Lily Evans, and no, not really. It's a long story but I just arrived here and I don't even know what I'm going to do when night comes."

Angie was nodding. "I live in a boarding house for women called the Griffith Hotel and I can offer you my couch for the night but I don't think you'll be able to stay. You have to interview to get an apartment there and the landlady is pretty strict."

Lily was flabberghasted. "But you... you don't even know me."

"I know a girl in trouble when I see one, Lily." She gestured behind her at the man in the black suit without actually turning in her seat. Lily glanced up and recognised the man. Without the Death Eater mask, she knew who it was: Regulus Black. He wasn't looking in her direction but she could tell he was watching them out of his periphery. Angie winked at her and got up. "Let me get you that coffee."

Lily watched Angie manoeuvre herself between the tables, stopping to take an empty plate and inquire with a customer along the way. She stopped by Black to ask what he wanted and he must have ordered something because she got out a pad and noted it down.

The coffee Angie brought was piping hot and strong but Lily had trouble enjoying it because Regulus continued to stare at her over his meal. Lily wanted to keep her head down to make him stop looking at her but she also wanted to follow Angie around the diner as she worked.

"Peggy!" Angie called to a new customer who was just coming in the door. She stepped close and spoke quietly, even as she led the new woman to Lily's table. "Hey, Lily," Angie said as they got close. "Peggy here is one of my neighbours. She's got a key to my apartment and she'll let you in. Peggy this is Lily." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "Why don't you two leave now so your creep can't follow. He hasn't paid for his meal yet. I'll hold him up so he can't follow you." She leaned back just enough to raise her eyebrows and nod and Lily nodded, agreeing with the plan. She got up and smiled at the new woman.

Peggy had dark hair and eyes that she accented with a gorgeous red lipstick. "It's nice to meet you," Lily said.

"Likewise," she said. Lily was shocked that she recognised the accent. She turned and gestured for Lily to follow, and continued the conversation. "Angie said you're new in the city, right?" As the door to the diner closed behind them, Lily could just make out Black getting up to follow before Angie intercepted him with her hands on her hips like she was ready to kick up a fuss.

At the kerb, a man had opened the back seat of a car door and Peggy gestured for her to get in first. "Thank you, Mr Jarvis," Peggy said as she slid in behind Lily.

"Of course, Miss Carter," he said. His accent was just as comforting to Lily as Peggy's had been. Mr Jarvis shut the car door and walked around to the driver's side. He got in and drove them away as Black opened the door of the diner.

Lily collapsed back in her seat, the nervous tension that had been coiling in her gut fading now that she was further away from him.

"Angie told me she lied to you," Peggy said drawing Lily's attention back to her. "She said she lived at a boarding house and offered you her couch. We don't actually live at the boarding house now, we live on the other side of the city. Roommates in a large residence owned by a friend of mine. I hope you're all right with having an actual bed?"

"She lied because she thought that the wanker following me might have been listening," Lily said, putting together the pieces, "That was really clever of her."

"Angie's a really clever girl and one hell of an actress," Peggy said in agreement. "You'll be able to stay as long as you need, as well. If you need help to get back home, don't hesitate to ask."

"It's complicated." Lily knew she probably shouldn't say anything but she was so very thankful for Angie and Peggy and even Mr Jarvis's assistance that she felt like she ought to tell them something. "I just arrived today and—"

"About three this afternoon, maybe?" Peggy asked, grinning as she glanced over at her.

Lily's jaw fell slack. "What?"

"It's just, that's when the agency I work for got a call about a strange disturbance in this part of the city. I think the words used to describe it were 'magical anomaly'?"

"You know about magic?" Lily asked.

"Mr Jarvis and I do. Angie does not. She's just that good of a person to offer a home for someone in need."

"I... I think she's my new best friend."

Peggy laughed and agreed, "She has that way about her."


	5. Sanctuary

**Sanctuary**

 _Natasha calls in a favour with an old friend when she, Steve, and Sam go on the run.  
_

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Charlie Weasley  
Rating: teen  
Warnings: Eavesdropping  
Tropes: Dirty Talk, Flirting, Post Captain America Civil War, Pre Avengers Infinity War  
Words: 911  
Original Release Date: 06 Sep 2018  
Square: O2 - Natasha/Charlie

* * *

Charlie was leaning against the railing near the top of the Sanctuary, watching the Romanian Longhorn nesting on the ridge below him. He was proud of her, despite being bred in captivity she was doing really well. She'd picked a spot that was covered with foliage that matched her dark green scales. Sometimes, when she got really still, he almost lost sight of her but then she would shake her enormous head and sunlight would glint on her golden horns. She was a beauty.

"Charlie!" Mihai called up to him. He looked down the path to see another beauty walking up the rocky staircase towards him. Mihai made a rude gesture about the woman behind her back and Charlie waved down at him. He knew she didn't need protecting and was probably exaggerating the shake of her hips on purpose as she walked but he'd still get Mihai with a Stinging Jinx tonight at dinner anyhow.

"Salut Natalia!" he greeted the gorgeous ginger.

She smiled at him as she took the last step up, shifting just enough that he could see two men behind her. He raised his eyebrows as he watched both men pause to stare out over the railing when Irina shook her head again, marring her camouflage.

"Charlie."

"Nu mă așteptam să te văd din nou," he said. He looked her over. It'd been close to fifteen years since he'd met her, since he'd seen her last. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him. No one else came close.

She walked closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She turned to look out at the nesting dragon. "I didn't expect to come back to Romania, either, but here I am. We need a place to lay low for a few weeks."

He swallowed and let his gaze shift back to the tall, well-built blond man and his companion. Charlie loved the Sanctuary because of how remote it was from the world but he was still able to recognise Captain America on sight. He and his friend had stopped several steps down and were still staring in slack-jawed awe at Irina.

"What did you tell them?" Charlie asked her.

"Nothing, actually. I figured you could explain magic well enough."

"You didn't even mention you were coming to a dragon sanctuary?"

Her lips quirked up at the corner as she watched the two men, humoured by their astonishment. "Nope."

Charlie nodded. "You're free to stay in my tent for however long you need. Though I've still only got the one spare bed."

"That's fine. Îți voi împărți patul."

He looked back at her to find her face unreadable. "Patul meu?" he questioned. Not that he minded, she could warm his bed whenever she liked.

"I'll be quiet."

"I've got a spell for that. Vii la fel de tare cum doreşti." He gave her a suggestive look and she rolled her eyes at him but fully smiled anyway. He was always very proud of himself when he could make her do that.

"Steve, Sam," Natalia called, "Come meet Charlie." Captain America turned and smiled in their direction as he and his friend took the last few steps up to the top. "Steve, Sam this is Charlie Weasley, a friend of mine."

Steve nodded in greeting and offered his hand to shake. "Steve Rogers."

Charlie reached out and shook the other guy's hand too. "Sam Wilson, it's nice to meet you."

"Same, same. So what do you think of Irina?" Charlie asked, pointing out towards where the dragon was now sleeping in her nest. Even her golden horns were hard to see now.

"Irina, huh?" Steve asked, looking back out over the ridge. "She's amazing. So, this is a Sanctuary for Dragons then? How many do you have here?"

Natalia's eyebrows furrowed. "How did you know?"

Steve gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "I read the sign at the base of the trail."

Her eyes widened and his statement must have caught her off-guard because she stated the obvious. "The sign's in Romanian."

Steve shrugged and gave them both a knowing smirk even as Charlie felt his face go as red as his hair. "So it is."

Charlie coughed to try and hide his embarrassment but it didn't help. "Umm, what was it you asked?"

"How many dragons do you have here?" Apparently, he wasn't going to mention what he'd overheard. Sam was smirking as well but he was still looking at the dragon.

Charlie tried to focus on answering the question. "Close to forty. Seven different breeds with typically three or four nesting mothers at any one time." He pointing back down the path to suggest they head back down to camp.

"Wow."

"Yeah. Not all of them are like this Romanian Longhorn here," he said, pointing again towards Irina, "Plenty of them prefer the caverns below the mountains. Let's head back down so I can give you a tour and show you where you'll be staying."

"All right," Steve said.

Sam looked back at Natalia, "You okay, Nat?"

She nodded and as the four of them started down the path, she asked, "How do you know Romanian?"

Steve grinned. "Wanda was practising with me. Romanian is one of the official languages of Sokovia."

"Oh," she said, still seemingly shocked. "I knew that."

Charlie grinned and squeezed at Natalia's waist before falling into step next to Steve. He could always appreciate a fellow dragonphile.

* * *

I used Google Translate and my very sad progress in Duolingo's Romanian tree. I'm sorry to any Romanian speakers.

 _Salut Natalia! –_ Hello Natasha!

 _Nu mă așteptam să te văd din nou. –_ I didn't expect to see you again.

 _Îți voi împărți patul._ – I'll share your bed.

 _Patul meu?_ – My bed?

 _Vii la fel de tare cum doreşti._ * – 'Scream as loud as you want' is what I intended but I'm pretty sure it (also) means 'Come as hard as you want.' Understand it however you'd like.


	6. Hyde and Seek

**Hyde and Seek**

 _If this boy wanted to run with a creature of the night... well, Peggy had no problem stepping in._

Pairing: Peggy Carter/Sirius Black  
Rating: teen  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Creature fic, AU – vampires  
Words: 1,307  
Original Release Date: 09 Sep 2018  
Square: O1 - Hyde Park

* * *

The sun was just settling below the horizon when Peggy came out of her den. She'd always been an early riser. She wanted every moment she could have now, especially the ones with just the tiniest hint of sunlight. She missed the sunlight.

Her den was a box buried in the basement of a public restroom on the edge of the Serpentine. It wasn't the most glamorous place to bed nor could she accumulate earthly possessions but it was close to a metropolis and plenty of unsuspecting... snacks.

It was half seven and Hyde Park was still bustling. The trees were casting the last of their long shadows, rustling in the chilly breeze. Peggy could smell rain on the wind though she couldn't see any particularly menacing looking clouds in the sky. The scent must have just carried.

She strolled leisurely to the Serpentine Bridge and leaned against the railing. She posed there, still as a statue, until the passersby took no notice of her. It would not have been a hardship to linger there until late in the night when the park was closed. The Serpentine and Long Water both were tranquil. The thousands of waterfowl that had played and fed in it during the daylight were dispersing, returning to their nests for another short sleep. All was pleasantly calm and even the chill in the air didn't dampen Peggy's enjoyment of the moment.

Yet something caught her attention. A certain timbre, a voice that was just a hint too loud and full of rebellion.

"I'm telling you, it'll be fine, Moony, come on. We just got to—"

"This is absolutely not fine! Look at all these Muggles, Sirius! I thought you said this would be a good place for Moony. Moonrise is in less than five minutes! There's—no, this is bad—"

In Peggy's periphery, she saw a young man dart behind a tree and she heard a quiet pop. The young man with a voice full of rebellion was left standing at the edge of the bridge staring at where his friend had 'disappeared.' He rucked his hands through his hair.

"Fine, well, go... be that way. I didn't want to run with Moony anyway," he said, sounding petulant. Peggy had a feeling this young man could have followed his friend, vanished to wherever it was he slipped away to, but wouldn't out of spite.

Like she thought. Rebellious.

The young man slumped his shoulders and walked away from the trail and bridge, towards the woods. He was making it easy for her. She stirred from her spot, the statue coming to life, and followed at a distance. If this boy wanted to run with a creature of the night... well, she had no problem stepping in.

She followed until they were the only ones under the cover of the trees. She _blinked_ forward, suddenly behind him, and whispered in his ear, "Run..."

Instead of eliciting the panic she thought it would, he turned around and stared at her. "Wha...? Oh! A vampire. Wicked. Hello, I'm Sirius Black." He offered his hand to her to shake. "And you are?"

She blinked, stupefied. Nothing like that had ever happened before. "I beg your pardon?"

He laughed, the sound truly joyful without a hint of derision. "Never had a meal speak to you before, I take it?" He paused as if actually expecting an answer so she shook her head lightly, her curls bouncing around her chin. He reached up and pinched one of them. "From your hairstyle, I'd say, 40s maybe?"

"Umm..."

"When you were changed. The 1940s, right? Studying the Muggle's world wars is sort of a hobby of mine. Have you really not had a conversation with your prey before? I'm sorry to have shocked you and I'll run if you want me to but... I think I'd rather just talk for a bit. You're a fit bird and well... my plans for the night fell through."

"I don't understand how you were going to run with a werewolf anyway."

His eyebrows raised like her question had sparked a memory. "The bridge. That's where I saw you. Was curious about that. Anyway, I'm an Animagus."

Peggy almost wanted to kill him and get this over with, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so awkward and wrong-footed in a conversation. Surely not since before the war. "What is an Animagus?"

His expression opened even more, earnestness shining through past the rebellious spirit. "You don't know anything, do you? Who was your sire? Why didn't they teach you this stuff?"

"He and I don't speak any longer."

"He's not dead, is he?"

She shrugged, she didn't like thinking about him. "He could be. I don't know."

"Oh, well, as long as _you_ didn't kill him. They say it's bad luck for a vampire to kill their sire." He pivoted on his toes and stepped away from her. "This is what I mean by Animagus," he said.

And before her very eyes, he shifted into a large black dog.

She felt her eyebrows climb up her forehead to give away her shock. "And this stops a werewolf from attacking you?"

He barked and nodded his head. He turned and trotted away and then returned, brushing up against her so much that she would have lost her footing had she not been in the habit of planting her feet. While he was still against her he changed back into the rebellious young man.

She could see the resemblance between forms. As a dog, he had long shaggy black fur. As a human, chin-length black tresses that fell in uniform waves. She wondered briefly about his hair care routine.

This close, she could see the grey of his irises and smell the hint of cinnamon on his breath. Despite being taller than she, he didn't use his height to tower over her. He set one of his large hands on her waist and she felt him press the length of his manhood against her hip. She'd not been this close with anyone without her fangs in their neck and the heat of his body caused a Pavlovian response. Her mouth watered and she pressed her tongue against the back of her fangs.

"Oh," he murmured, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her lips, to her open mouth, to her fangs, "you're touch-starved."

"Why shouldn't I just take what I want, right now?" she whispered.

His response was just as quiet as the dark, "Because you don't know what you. You thought you wanted a meal but I've changed the game on you."

He blinked, swallowed, and stepped back, breaking the spell that had befallen them. "Did you know you have an allure?" he asked in a normal speaking volume again. He looked down and away from her, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"What are you?" She asked. Speaking while aware of her fangs made her words come out slightly garbled.

He laughed but then answered her question. "I'm a wizard. Why don't we walk and talk and later I can see about getting you some blood-flavoured lollies. Unless I mean, can you drink without killing me? I wouldn't say no to that allure again if you keep your fangs to yourself." He turned and started walking back the way they'd come, towards the Serpentine. She followed, intrigued. "Say, you never did tell me your name..."

"Peggy Carter."

He stopped and turned to look at her. "No shit, really? They say you died in New York of a broken heart after the war."

"I did."

He nodded, seemingly in agreement, and resumed walking. They made it all the way to the Serpentine Bridge, the lake beyond black and still, before she broke the silence. "What makes you a wizard?"

He grinned and showed her.


	7. This Their House of Cards

**This Their House of Cards**

 _Secrets. Harry had known going into this relationship that there were things both he and Brock wouldn't be able to share. Unfortunately, a house built on such shaky foundations was likely going to come toppling down eventually. He hadn't expected it to be like this, though.  
_

Pairing: Brock Rumlow/Harry Potter  
Rating: mature  
Warnings: No Happily Ever After  
Tropes: Relationship built on lies, Post Captain America Winter Soldier  
Words: 2,008  
Original Release Date: 09 Sep 2018  
Square: G3 - Brock/Harry

* * *

"Brock?" Harry called as he unlocked the door to their flat. He dropped his keys in the glass bowl on the table by the door where they made a tinkling sound as they landed. He smiled at the sound and looked around, wondering if his husband was working this weekend.

He didn't really know what Brock did for a living. He knew he worked for SHIELD, as an agent, but from the hard muscle tone, repeated bruising and cuts, he had a feeling Brock was more than just an agent. He probably worked as an operative for some paramilitary division of the intelligence organisation. He'd never said.

But that was all right. Harry had never said he was a wizard either. He'd never mentioned anything about being the saviour of the wizarding world or dying once when he was eighteen. None of it. As far as Brock knew, Harry worked as a professor at a Massachusetts boarding school where he stayed the week and came home on the weekend. Which was all true. He'd just never mentioned that instead of driving the seven hours home and back, he Apparated to where he left the car parked during the week and drove for maybe an hour.

As far as Harry was aware, they were content to not pry. Teaching seemed boring to Brock and government busywork (or even black ops) weren't interesting to Harry. He'd done his time in the Auror department, with the long hours and the dangerous missions, and all it had got him was an ex-wife and more scars.

It was only ill-luck that had Harry falling in love with Brock before he knew about the other man's (likely) career.

But they made it work. During the summers when Harry had off, he and Brock spent a lot of time together. They'd travel, they'd hit up cultural hot spots, they'd relax. Life was good. They were happy.

Harry shucked his shoes by the door and walked socked-footed into the living room. He picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. The news was on. Brock always had the news on. He was about to switch the channel to something sports related for a bit of background noise when he actually focused on the footage they were showing on the screen.

"SHIELD headquarters, the Triskelion, has collapsed and dozens of employees are currently reported missing. It seems that SHIELD's newest iteration of flying aircraft carriers, known as helicarriers, have malfunctioned on their first flight and within minutes of launch all three have crashed. One of which careened into the Triskelion causing the damage you're seeing on screen now."

Half the building was crumbled. Concrete and steel stuck out at odd angles and in the background of the shot Harry could see emergency workers sifting through the rubble.

"Most of the injured SHIELD employees have been taken to..."

Harry was already rushing back to the door, leaving the telly on as he stuffed his feet back into his shoes and grabbed his keys. He wanted to Apparate but knew he couldn't. This city was full of surveillance cameras and he knew it when he moved here. He'd have to drive. Besides, if Brock was at the hospital, Harry would have the car there to bring him home.

His hands shook as he locked the door behind him. Harry would bring him home.

* . * . *

At the hospital, Harry tried not to yell at the nurse at the front desk. "Please, Brock Rumlow, can you tell me if he's here?"

"I'm sorry but if this is about the victims from the Triskelion we're only releasing that information to family. You'll need to—"

"He's my husband," Harry half-growled through his teeth. He grabbed at the counter between them with both hands to stop from palming his wand in his anxiety. "Please," he tried again, only slightly calmer.

The nurse's eyes focused on his clenched left hand and the golden ring there before typing something into the computer in front of her. "I'm sorry," she said as she waited for the information to load, "I thought you were a reporter. We've had half a dozen try to get in to see any number of people who might have been admitted." Harry didn't accept her apology, in fact, he only stared at her as he waited. He didn't care about reporters and she shouldn't have just assumed. She glanced up and flinched a little at his stare before saying that Brock was in the OR. "They'll put—"

"Do you know what happened?"

She bit her lip, hesitating. "He has severe burns from an explosion," she said and then gave him a floor number. "That's where his room will be when he's out of the OR. I'll put a note in his file that his husband is in the waiting area up there."

"Thank you," Harry said. He turned, debating whether he should wait for the elevator or burn off some of his anxiety by taking the stairs when the nurse called his name again.

"Mr Rumlow?" Harry turned around. "He doesn't have a husband listed in his medical records. That might just be because you recently got—"

Harry was already shaking his head. "No," he said, licking his lips as a different sort of dread flooded his stomach. "We've been married for close to five years."

Something like pity flashed over her face. He turned and headed for the stairs. Maybe Brock had just forgotten to update some form or another. Harry tucked his thumb into his palm to feel the smooth, slightly scuffed band of his wedding ring at the base of his ring finger, wanting the comfort he usually got from the action. It didn't ease the worry building up in his veins.

* . * . *

When Brock finally opened his eyes Harry was by his bedside and had been there for days. He probably looked like shit complete with stubbly beard and greasy hair but he didn't care a wit. Brock was bound up with so much gauze and bandages he couldn't even hold his hand but he could listen, so Harry spoke to him.

"I'm here, Brock, I'm here."

The bandages around his face shifted a little and Harry hoped he was smiling.

* . * . *

The following months had been rough. Brock was still half-swathed in gauze but most of his face and one of his hands were free. Harry'd been with him through most of everything, even going so far as to asking Ilvermorny to find a replacement teacher so he wouldn't have to leave his husband's side. The nurses had finally insisted he go home to bathe and eat more regularly and Harry had conceded only because they said it would help Brock recover quicker to know he was taking care of himself.

Either way, recovery was slow.

There were dozens of times where Harry had almost given in and taken Brock to one of the Wizarding hospitals in the area but he couldn't, not without sharing his secret. Harry had known going into this relationship that there would be things he wouldn't be able to share with his husband. He'd gone through with it anyway, believing the pros outweighed the cons. Sitting next to Brock's hospital bed and listening to the doctor word his prognosis as carefully as possible regarding the likelihood of scarring and permanent nerve damage hadn't crossed his mind when he'd made that decision.

It almost made him regret it.

The telly was set on a news channel but the volume was low. "Stop scratching, Brock," Harry said for the fifteenth time that hour.

"It itches. Goddammit. And it's not like me scratching at it's gonna make it scar. We both know that underneath these bandages I'm one ugly motherfucker now."

"There's still treatment options to consider when you're healed."

"Bullshit."

They were quiet for a while as Brock nibbled at his dinner tray. Each time his fork hit his plate it squeaked with the pressure with which he stabbed at it.

"So, I got a call back from the school. They're asking if I'm coming back for the new school year..." Harry said. He knew Brock was getting tired of being cooped up in the hospital and the doctor had suggested that Brock might make better progress if Harry wasn't there every day. He thought the nurses were just tired of seeing his face every day and had called in the doctor to give him a pseudo-psychological reason to get him out of the ward.

Brock snorted and let his fork drop. It clattered to the plastic tray top. "You're still going for that lie, huh? Give it up already. I've known for years you don't work at some damn school in Massachusetts."

"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded at the accusation.

"Your car? You drive an hour out of the city and park it for the week. I could never get the surveillance footage from the garage you park in but I figure your lover picks you up. You play house for the week. What? You got a family I don't know about? Wife and kids?"

"I have an ex-wife that you do know about. She lives in England. I don't know what you're..." he trailed off, realising he was going to be caught in a lie otherwise. "I do work at a school in Massachusetts."

"You really think I'm stupid, don't ya? What have you told her about your staying here all this time? She know you're married to me? Or maybe you two broke up?"

"Brock, I'm married to _you_. I love _you_. What are you going on about?"

"You just can't stop with the lies, huh?"

Harry didn't know what to do. Did he come clean about magic? Now? After months in the hospital and permanent scarring and nerve damage when magic could have healed him in less than a week? How horribly selfish would that make him, that he didn't prevent Brock all the pain and discomfort of recovery? He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ to stop Brock from going on with this accusation when the TV caught Brock's attention. He turned the volume up.

"...A lot of speculation and conjecture still surrounds the horrific events that took place alongside the Potomac during the extremely visible fall of SHIELD... specifically around the death of one particular individual who seemed to be instrumental in orchestrating the attack—Alexander Pierce."

"No..." Brock murmured, seemingly shocked. Had no one mentioned that of the many casualties of the fall of the Triskelion had been his boss? The news continued to delve into who Pierce was and how he was connected to HYDRA.

Even Harry, who rarely watched the news when it turned political had heard about how HYDRA, the world war two-era terrorist organisation, had infiltrated SHIELD and how many involved in the agency were also HYDRA agents.

"This wasn't supposed to happen..." Brock muttered, scratching at his arm where the IV was connected.

"Stop scratch—"

"Shut up!" Brock shouted.

"Brock—"

"Ah," he said, as he yanked the IV loose, dropping it over the side of the bed, "Gotcha."

"What are you—"

"I said shut up!" Brock growled. He swung at Harry and would have caught him on the jaw with his fist had Harry not jerked back, (seems those Auror skills weren't lost after all). He rolled out of the bed, with his hand pressed against where he ripped the IV out. "I've got to get out of here."

"What? Where are you going to go? Brock, get back in the bed, I'll tell you—"

"I don't care, Harry," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not who you thought I was either, all right? Just... drop it. I'm leaving," he said, stalking towards the door in his socked feet.

Harry stood up, thinking he'd catch Brock if he fell. He knew his emotions were written on his face but he couldn't let someone else just walk away from him again. Not without putting up a fight."I'll follow."

Brock barely spared him a glance. "Don't."


	8. Flora of the Alien Variety

**Flora of the Alien Variety**

 _When Natasha and Bucky get sprayed by a breathing alien plant, Stark assumes they've been hit with sex pollen and quarantines them. Neville gets inadvertently invited. Nat, Bucky, nor Neville complain._

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanoff/Neville Longbottom  
Rating: mature  
Warnings: Dubious Consent  
Tropes: Established Relationship, Fade to Black, Open Relationship, Secret Relationship, Sex Pollen  
Words: 1,512  
Original Release Date: 09 Sep 2018  
Square: N2 - Bucky/Natasha/Neville

* * *

"So what's your professional opinion, Professor?" Tony Stark asked.

Neville honestly had no idea what he was looking at. It only vaguely qualified as a plant in his mind as it was partially buried in dirt and looked slightly leafy. What made it distinctly not-plant like was the fact that it seemed to be breathing. The alien plant was blue and purple in colour and glowed phosphorescent. The base was large and seemed to rhythmically inflate and deflate. There were spines along the leaves that looked hollow and the residual pollen was hot pink.

"I... Why did you call me in, again?"

"Well, you're the top authority on plants. Mr I-have-a-degree-in-biology over here," the short, older man rambled, pointing to the only other person in the lab with them, Dr Bruce Banner, "said that as this wasn't your garden-variety plant and that he didn't know what to do with it."

"Yes, but I'm only a Herbology professor. I teach eleven-year-olds. Surely Dr Banner would have the greater expertise."

"But it's not... normal. Therefore, you. So, what do you think?"

"I think it's not magical either. Where did you say you found this?" Neville asked, stepping closer. He didn't know if it was poisonous or venomous or not but he was intrigued by it nonetheless.

"Our team was fighting some aliens that had decided to take over a small town in Washington state. You know, the typical Avengers' workday? And well, they'd spread some of their native plants around, make it homier right? Except, this thing decides to spray its hot pink mess all over two of us. Your job is to tell us that they aren't going to die. Simple enough, huh?"

Neville blinked as he tried to follow along. "Where are those teammates now?"

Captain America—no, right, he'd asked Neville to call him Steve—answered as he stepped into the room. "We've got them in quarantine. JARVIS is monitoring their vitals."

"And where is..."

"Oh, in the next room over," Stark said, pointing towards the wall in front of them. "Don't worry, it's hermetically sealed. Has it's own ventilation and air circulation system."

"And you just, potted up a clipping to bring here to test?" Neville asked, looking between the three of them.

Stark shrugged. An odd clang came out of the room followed by a sound that reminded Neville of an erumpent call. Stark raised his eyebrows and said, "JARVIS, can you tell me what's happening in the quarantine room? How are our lovely two ex-assassins?"

"Their vitals are elevated, Sir."

Steve sounded worried when he asked a follow-up question, "What are they doing? Do we need to get a med-team in here?"

"I believe they are copulating, Captain. Neither appears to be showing signs of distress."

Neville envied the AI's cool delivery and inability to show embarrassment. He knew his face had gone tomato red at the pronouncement.

"Do Barnes and Romanoff even like each other?" Stark asked Steve. "I was right, though, good to know!"

Dr Banner looked over his shoulder from where he was studying a sample under a microscope. "You don't know you were right, Tony, and who has ever heard of sex pollen?"

Neville strangled on his own tongue for a moment. "Sorry? _What_ pollen?"

"Sex pollen, you know, like the... you know what? Nevermind," Stark said, "Just that you get sprayed with the flower's love-juice and you..." he made an odd motion with his hands, "do the do until you orgasm."

Just then there was an electronic screech and an intercom system lit up near the door leading into the quarantine room. A woman's husky voice echoed over the speaker, sounding a little tinny, "Da, da, da!" She panted and shouted. "Da!"

Neville felt his ears go hot at the sound.

The panting faded and then she spoke again, in what Neville assumed was Russian, "Net, net. Bol'she!" she whined the last word and even he could tell it was a cry for more.

"Umm, JARVIS?" Stark said.

"Muting the intercom system. I'll continue to monitor them in case they intentionally try to connect with any of the team, Sir."

"Thanks..." he took a few steps closer to the table—and the alien plant—and then turned on his heel. He gestured with a pointed finger. "So, maybe I'm not completely right. Maybe it's until the pollen is out of their system rather than until orgasm, I don't know but—"

They were saved from another Stark ramble when the plant puffed up larger than before and spurted hot pink dust-like pollen into the air.

Directly into Neville's face.

"Oh, no! You're not getting me!" Stark said and within seconds he was wrapped up in his red and gold armour, arms outstretched towards Neville like he was trying to ward him off. "Off to quarantine with you!" he said through the speaker in his suit.

Neville didn't feel anything happening as he started to try and wipe his face free of pink pollen. "I think I'm fine."

"Nuh-uh. In you go," Stark said, taking a step forward like he was planning on herding Neville through the closed door.

He sighed and flicked his wand at the plant, creating a clear glass box around it so it wouldn't spray anyone else. He then syphoned off the rest of the pollen with his wand. "No, look, Stark, I'm fine..."

"Just to be safe, Neville," Steve said. He had a frown on his face but somehow it came across as reassuring.

Capitulating, Neville approached the door. It slid open for him and he entered, almost afraid of what he'd find. The door slid closed behind him. The other two occupants didn't seem to notice his entrance. Agent Romanoff was sitting on the metal table built against the wall, naked. He could see where a hand print was twisted into the metal of the table lip and the floor at his feet was covered with books and papers, things that had been pushed off to make room for her. He supposed the bending of metal would have explained the erumpent call from earlier. Thank Merlin the noise hadn't actually come from either of them. He couldn't see Sergeant Barnes but the rhythmic slurping sound hinted at what he might be busy doing.

Neville still didn't feel anything strange happening to him to support Stark's theory about sex pollen. Sure, he might be becoming slightly aroused but there was a naked woman on the table engaging in intercourse with someone, that sort of thing would turn a large portion of the population on.

He turned away, hoping to distract himself from what was happening a few feet from him but there wasn't much else in the room. It was narrow and not even a dozen feet in length. One of the overhead lights had been broken so the room was only partially lit. A filing cabinet had been knocked over at some point.

"Hey," that husky voice from earlier said. Neville turned around to see Agent Romanoff staring at him, eyes half-lidded in a pleasure-induced daze and hair sticking up at odd angles. "Come here," she demanded.

Neville's feet obeyed the command before his mind had even processed the words. When he was close enough to see a head of brown hair working her between her thighs, her right hand holding tight to the strands, he stopped. She grabbed at him with her left hand, hooking his tie and jumper, and dragged him close.

"I don't think we should—" he got out before her mouth was on his. He resolutely kept his hands at his sides, trying to focus on allowing her to lead the kiss but not entirely contributing to it when she did something mind-boggling with her tongue. His eyes might have crossed.

* . * . *

When it was over, Neville had cushioned the floor and conjured some bedding. He was blinking hazily at the ceiling above him, letting his hand run soothingly through someone's hair while whoever it was had their head laying on his chest. Someone else was slowly catching their breath next to him.

"Hey JARVIS," Natasha called lazily from beside him.

"Yes, Agent Romanoff?"

"Can you send someone with water, snacks, and cigarettes?"

"Regular or menthol?"

"Regular," Bucky said. It was muffled because his face was half-pressed against Neville's chest.

"Of course, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky grunted.

Neville turned his head to look at Natasha. "Snacks?"

"Well, if they're just going to assume we're acting on account of that flower dusting us, we might as well make a full night of it. I don't think we've had this much uninterrupted alone time in months."

"Give me five more minutes, Nat. I think my tongue's going to fall off."

She smirked at Bucky's comment. "You hear that, Neville? We can start without him."

"Hey," Bucky objected weakly but didn't protest as Neville rolled away from him to kiss Natasha. He still wasn't sure if sex pollen was a thing but he wouldn't object to her plans, not when she could do that thing with her tongue so well.


	9. Leo the Lion

**Leo the Lion**

 _After the Statute of Secrecy was repealed, corporations got a little creative in their quest to stop piracy. (AU – No Powers but AU – Repealed Statute of Secrecy meaning there are no superheroes but magic is still a thing.)  
_

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Luna Lovegood/Tony Stark  
Rating: general  
Warnings: Crackfic?  
Tropes: AU – No Powers, AU – Repealed Statute of Secrecy, Established Relationship  
Words: 1,085  
Original Release Date: 19 Sep 2018  
Square: G4 - Tony/Luna/Steve

* * *

Steve had his feet propped up on the coffee table and was sipping a beer as Tony started getting everything situated to watch the new movie. He always had to have things just right for movie-watching. The lights had to be low, the blinds pulled closed, snacks available in non-crinkling containers, and a blanket over the back of the couch in case his feet got cold. Whereas with Steve, he didn't care. He could pause the movie to fix or do something if he needed to.

Once everything was ready, Tony pressed the play button on the remote and settled in next to Steve. They watched the fun previews of upcoming things from the same production house. Finally, the credits started to scroll onto the screen, the last of which being the MGM lion. It roared once but then the film seemed to stutter and suddenly there was a lion standing in their living room.

"Oh shit," Tony muttered, pushing back into Steve's chest as they stared at the cat. It started pacing back and forth in front of the television while the screen remained black. "I didn't realize how big lions were in person."

Steve had wrapped his arm around Tony, half to protect him and half to comfort him. "Where's your phone, Tony?" he whispered, "I think this is one of those times we're supposed to call the Magic Connection Center. You know, misbehaving magic?"

"Right, right, it's..." Tony glanced around, still stiff in Steve's arms. He swallowed so loudly the lion looked up and seemed to glare at them. "It's in the bedroom," he squeaked. The lion returned to pacing.

Steve understood the problem immediately. The lion was between them and the bedroom. He knew better than to think that a Conjured lion couldn't hurt him. He'd seen the news reports and warnings after the magical society came out to the world after they repealed their secrecy act. Conjured animals were just as dangerous as real ones.

Steve put his arm on Tony's to calm him a little before he eased himself up and off the couch. He was a big guy, bigger than Tony at least, and he hoped that if he accidentally provoked the lion, Tony would be able to get to the elevator and off the floor. Steve was slow as he walked to the far edge of the room and the followed the wall, hoping to give the lion as wide a berth as he could. It had stopped its pacing to watch him. By the time he made it to the bedroom door, he was easily within touching distance of the big cat.

He walked backwards into the bedroom, knowing better than to show the animal his back. He fumbled behind him before grabbing Tony's phone and only looked down once to make sure he had the right number. He tapped the button to put it on speaker and listened as the phone rang twice before someone picked up.

"Magical–Non-Magical Connections Center, where may I direct you?" The operator sounded bored.

"Yeah, umm, we've got a case of misbehaving magic. I think something of ours got Jinxed," Steve answered.

"Are you or anyone else at the residence a magic user, sir?" She asked.

"No."

"Is it an emergency or an inconvenience?"

"There's a lion in our living room. I'd say it's an emergency."

The operator hummed lightly and he could hear her typing something. "And what's your address?"

"200 Park Avenue, New York City. Stark Tower. 83rd floor."

She typed something else. "And do you have any wards or protective enchantments on the building that would hinder a Correction Wizard's Apparition attempt?"

Steve could see Tony through the bedroom door, shaking his head. "No."

"Someone will be with you shortly. You may hang up now. I'd advise staying still and away from the lion, sir." The phone made a little beep and the screen came on to show that she'd ended the call.

Steve released his breath and looked back up to watch Tony who had curled up and made himself look small against the couch cushions. He swallowed and hoped the Correction Wizard would show up soon. He pocketed the phone and took two steps towards the door but the lion moved into the opening and growled. He stopped moving and waited, feeling his muscles shaking as he held himself still.

There was a soft pop sound and the lion's attention turned immediately to the newcomer. A woman's voice called out a spell and the lion disappeared. Steve sagged with relief and walked back into the living room to put his arm around Tony.

He turned to the Correction Witch. She was short with dirty blonde hair pulled back into an elaborate braid. She was looking at them. "So... I recognize the MGM lion. I have to tell you that if it's conjured a second time at this location you'll be fined for pirating copyrighted material—"

"Excuse you?" Tony said, seeming to regain his composure now that the danger had passed. He reached down and picked up the Blu-Ray package they'd purchased at the store earlier in the week. "This wasn't pirated."

"Oh," she said, stopping her recital. "Hmm. Sorry about that then. I don't know why MGM would Jinx legit copies of their films." She cast something at the Blu-Ray player and tucked her wand away. She then pulled a small notebook out of a pocket in her uniform. "Let me get your name and the purchase date of the film so I can lodge a complaint for you. I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way. Depending on how long this process goes, you might end up seeing more of me."

"I'm Tony Stark. JARVIS can you relate the purchase date of this movie we bought last week?"

"Of course, Sir," the AI said.

Luna glanced up at the ceiling and smiled, seemingly charmed by the AI. She took down the notes she needed from JARVIS, including a phone number for them, and then tucked the notepad away. She smiled at them, giving them both and up-and-down glance, before waving and saying, "The Jinx has been removed. Have a good night, now." She Disapparated with a soft pop which left the room quiet.

"Do you get the feeling she got our phone number for her own personal use?" Tony asked.

Steve glanced down at his boyfriend and gave him a smirk. "Would that bother you?"

Tony shook his head. "Nope. Doesn't bother me at all."


	10. The Curtains Were Cotton and Lace

**The Curtains Were Cotton and Lace**

 _Hermione and her lovers in a small scene of domestic bliss._

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Hermione Granger/Steve Rogers  
Rating: mature  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Curtain Fic, Fluff, Morning After, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes  
Words: 749  
Original Release Date: 24 Sep 2018  
Square: I5 - Bucky/Hermione/Steve

* * *

Hermione stretched sore muscles, groaning from the delightful ache. She rolled towards the centre of the bed planning to bury her face in Bucky's pillow. Instead, she rolled practically on top of him and found herself caught in his arms. She opened her eyes a crack to find him smiling, eyes closed. The diffused light from the curtained window behind him gave him a halo. "I thought you'd got up," she murmured, mindful of her morning breath.

He opened his eyes to look down at her. "I did. Went for a run with Steve then came back to bed to wait for you to wake up. You have a track record of stealing my pillow in the mornings."

"Your pillow is always cooler than mine."

"Uh-huh, probably because you sleep so late."

She stuck her tongue out at him, the only dignified answer she could think to give him.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead and nose and by the time his lips were headed for her she was ready to meet him halfway. It was just a sweet little peck but it lingered. She hummed when he pulled back from her. "And what's Steve up to?"

"Breakfast. You know, bacon and eggs. Maybe some toast."

"Well, that's because if you were cooking we'd only ever have pancakes," she teased.

He smiled and squeezed her in a little hug. "That's because pancakes are awesome. They're their own food group, you know."

"Only to you, Bucky Barnes."

"Nah. Steve likes pancakes too."

"Not as much as you do," said Steve from the doorway. Hermione shifted in Bucky's hold, rolling just enough to see Steve. He was wearing the black and pink frilly apron Luna had given them as a house-warming present. The stilettos and stockings that went with it were buried at the bottom of Hermione's knicker drawer. She'd worn the entire ensemble once, on a dare from Bucky, and although it had been well worth it at the time she felt so ridiculous in the getup she hadn't worn it since. "How are you feeling?" Steve asked, bringing her back to the present. "Nothing too sore? Nothing hurting?"

She smiled at him and closed her eyes, evaluating how she felt. He always liked to ask after the three of them spent the night making love. Their serum-enhanced bodies could really hurt her if they weren't careful... but they were both extremely careful, gentle lovers. She reopened her eyes and focused on his face. "I feel fine. A little sore but that's to be expected."

Steve swallowed and his gaze travelled down her blanket-wrapped body in a deliberately slow glide. It was moments like that that gave her the impression that he had X-ray vision. He always swore he didn't. She felt Bucky press his lips to her head above her ear. "Wouldn't mind an encore."

She raised her eyebrows and glanced at him. "Only if you're in the middle this time."

He gave off a shocked little laugh and rolled onto his back, bringing his metal left hand up to rub at his forehead. "I don't think I'd mind that."

"I'll make sure to dig up the pegging harness Luna sent me last year for my birthday, then."

He turned back to look at her, surprise on his face. "Not what I had in mind."

She shrugged but offered him a smile. "You didn't specify when you agreed."

He and Steve both chuckled. Bucky rolled back to kiss her on the temple before he climbed from the bed. "You weren't in Slytherin? I'm pretty sure that was a textbook Slytherin thing to say."

She rolled her eyes and sat up from the bed. "I don't know, I think I showed some pretty raw Gryffindor bravery last night."

"You show courage and bravery every day you're with me," he said softer than before.

"Pssh," she said, trying to shrug off his melancholy and self-doubt with her flippancy, "I was talking about being double-teamed by a pair of super-soldiers, thank-you-very-much."

She strolled in the direction of the bathroom to the sound of Bucky sniggering and saying, "You're very welcome dollface."

She heard the dull thwacking sound of Steve swatting Bucky on the back of the shoulder as she closed the bathroom door. She sat down on the wide lip of the jacuzzi tub and shook her head to herself, wondering how she ever got so lucky as to have both of these extraordinary men in her life.


	11. Being Magical

**Being Magical**

 _In early 1996, someone hires the Winter Solider to kidnap or assassinate Harry Potter. Minerva isn't going to let that happen, of course, bu she wasn't quite prepared for this either.  
_

Pairing: Bucky Barnes & Minerva McGonagall  
Rating: teen  
Warnings:  
Tropes: Light Angst, Attempt at Humor  
Words: 1,341  
Original Release Date: 25 Sep 2018  
Square: I3 - Minerva McGonagall

* * *

Bucky Barnes was a Muggle-born. It was like finding like when he befriended magical Steve Rogers on the playground when they were eight. And although the Barnes's were better off than the Rogers's, neither family had the money to ship the boys off to a Wizarding school when they turned eleven.

Sarah did her best. She told them tales of Hogwarts, the great castle in Scotland where she'd gone to school. Bucky and Steve would sit quiet and still for hours listening to her talk about her adventures in some far away land, which was quite a feat for two rambunctious little boys.

When she was able, after working long hours as a nurse, she taught the boys out of her old textbooks. Steve used his dad's wand, left at home during the Great War when he'd gone off to fight. Sarah let Bucky use hers for practical lessons. He used it so often that it changed allegiance. On his seventeenth birthday, she officially gifted it to him. He'd tried to give it back and when she insisted that he was the stronger wizard and the wand was truly his, he promised he'd buy her a new one to replace the one he'd inadvertently stolen.

Unfortunately, TB got her before he'd made good on his promise.

Being magical didn't make things easier. Sure you could duplicate food if you had it but sometimes they struggled to have even that. But then the war in Europe happened and suddenly there were jobs and _enough_ and for a bit, life was good in their little tenement in Brooklyn.

Being magical didn't stop Bucky from getting drafted.

He had been paranoid, unsure on how to hide his wand through basic so he left it at home. It wasn't until his last night in the city when he was boarding the ship to take him across the Atlantic that he stowed it in his pack.

Being magical didn't help the cause. In fact, there were so very few opportunities to use his wand and his magic he often thought it would have been better to leave his wand at home. It would have been safer there.

Being magical didn't stop him from being selected for the isolation ward and Zola's laboratory. There was something about the way Zola hand-picked the 'volunteers' that suggested he was picked precisely because he was magical.

He'd tucked his wand in his boot, hoping to keep it safe, hoping that if he had the chance he'd use it to free himself and the rest of them.

He hadn't been given the chance.

Then Captain America had saved him, then the tactical team, then the train. He'd been aware enough at the bottom of that ravine to search for his wand but he hadn't found it.

But, of course... The Asset has no recollection of these things.

* . * . *

It's late. Minerva, in cat form, wanders the castle looking for out-of-bed students. She stopped in the kitchens for an indulgent bowl of cream and was now heading towards the Marble Staircase to return to her room when she hears a noise. The slightest rustle of trousers and the scuff of leather-soled boots on the stone floor catches her sensitive ears. Turning the corner she sees a masked man, creeping along the wall. He looks dead-set on a mission of some sort with his wand aloft.

This is not good.

She does not know this man, doesn't recognise the build of his shoulders nor the colour of his hair. He was never a student. But he's walking carefully up the steps like he knows where the trick steps are and he veers left instead of right on the third floor to take an open secret passage that Gryffindor students use daily. It's not until he gets to the Portrait of the Fat Lady that he stops.

The Fat Lady's gaze darts to Minerva, recognising her, but she still yawns and tips her nose up at the stranger. "Password?" she asks.

"Open," the man says. His voice is soft under his mask and scratchy though Minerva doesn't know whether it's from smoking or disuse.

"That is not a password, young man."

He pauses like he's confused and Minerva takes the moment to walk a little closer. It's dark enough in the torch-lit corridor that she can get directly beneath him without him noticing. At this angle, the mask looks more like a muzzle.

His eyebrows are furrowed but there's a determined look in his eyes. He raises his wand at the portrait, "Open or I'll blow up the painting."

"Do you really think my painting isn't Charmed against attacks like that? I'm protecting students. You cannot enter without a password," the Fat Lady tells him. She's more awake now that she has understood the stakes. This is an intruder.

The Fat Lady knows just as well as Minerva that of all the students safely tucked inside the tower, this muzzled man is probably after fifth-year Harry Potter. Minerva doesn't expect this to be an attempt at kidnapping by the Ministry but she wouldn't put it past them, especially with Dolores Umbridge acting Headmistress to cover it up.

The man shakes his head, tossing his long brown hair around his face. He then pockets his wand and unsheathes a large knife. "I will get into that room. My mission is in there," he says.

Minerva darts towards the wall and shifts, already standing at the ready with wand in hand and a Shield Charm in her mind. He blinks and rocks back, shocked at her sudden appearance. It's only now that she's level with him that she realizes his light eyes look blank.

"Move," he says.

"I don't think so, young man," she tells him, wand lifted. She uses a spell she hopes she'd never have to use. A spell she learned years ago when she worked in the Department of Law Enforcement. It clears the mind of an Imperius Curse.

He blinks. Looks around him, then down at the knife in his hand. He drops the knife and scrabbles at that hand, that arm, with the other. "No, no..." he murmurs, caught up in some mental anguish that Minerva doesn't understand. He rips at his shirt and only when he's yanked the latches and buckles off and strips of hardened leather hang from the seams at his shoulders does she see what he sees, what he's realized.

His entire left arm is made of metal. Shiny and shifting, with interlocking plates and where it meets the skin it's scarred with furrows from fingernails repeatedly scratching at it. It's an old wound.

His breath is coming faster and harsher and when he looks up at her above the mask, the muzzle, all she can see in his eyes is a terrified young man, no... a scared little boy.

Minerva reaches forward and cups his cheeks, searching for whatever is holding the muzzle on. It's moulded tight to his jaw but comes off in her hands easily enough. His breath is still coming too sharp so she drops the metal muzzle to her feet and returns both her hands to his face. "Breathe with me. In," she inhales deeply in example, "and out." Again she puts actions to words. Repeating the process and maintaining eye contact with him. Finally, when his breathing is more normal, she lowers her hands. "Do you know where you are?"

He looks at her and blinks again and then looks around, his gaze darting to the torches along the walls and the paintings and the Marble Staircase behind him. "Hogwarts?" he asks, confused. His voice is louder without the muzzle, clearer in tone.

"Yes, good. You're in Hogwarts. I don't believe you were a student here, however. Do you know how you got here?"

He returns his fearful gaze to her, meets her eyes, says, "Ma'am, I don't even remember my own name."

Minerva bites her tongue in response. This is going to take all night. And maybe a bottle of Ogden's.


End file.
